Grell gets the sniffles
by Ella is a teacup
Summary: A story about Grell Sutcliff getting a cold. (Yep. That's it.)
1. Chapter 1

William T. Spears had noticed something different about Grell Sutcliff recently.

Was it the new, redder-than-red outfit?

No.

Was it the new, longer-than-long eyelash extensions?

No.

William looked at Grell. The two of them had been working together all day, collecting the souls of townsfolk who had been unlucky enough to catch a new type of disease which made their cheeks turn bright red – then killed them. They were returning to the library of souls, and Grell's hair was blowing over his face, making it hard for William to see his expression. Even though they had been working together for hours, William still didn't understand what was wrong with his normally crazy, loud workmate. William adjusted his glasses. Then he put his finger on it.

Instead of the normal flirty, over-excited Grell that returned from a job like this one, there was quiet, tired one. Not that William didn't appreciate the quiet, but something was obviously wrong. Grell looked like a red rose, that having flowered excellently, was now drooping close to the ground. He didn't walk with his normal swagger, and he held his chainsaw so that it dragged along the ground along the dust. William adjusted his glasses again. Normally, he would of given Grell a lecture on this. After all, all death scythes must be treated with respect. He tried to ignore the rules and regulations ringing in his head and focus what was up with Grell.

They kept running. It would only be a few more miles before they got back to the library, where they could put the cinematic records away and be done with the day. The silence was getting unbearable. Will was not much of a conversation starter, as it was normally Grell that started their awkward and rambling talks. William was about to make a comment on the weather, when Grell slowed to a walk, then sat down, hunched over with his knees tucked up. It took Will a moment to stop, then he walked back to the red figure on the road.

"...Grell?" William started, "You need to get up. We'll be late and have to work overtime." Grell sneezed in response. "Grell! I don't care what happened, if this is another drama over that demon again -" He stopped mid-way through his sentence. Grell was looking up at him, eyebrows raised, no trace of the smile that was normally there. There was something else, though. His cheeks were bright red, not in his normal "I-just-thought-about-Sebastian-Michaelis" way, but in a way that made William feel that something was actually wrong. Very wrong.


	2. Grell still has the sniffles

In the end William had to carry Grell back to the shinigami headquarters, then alerted the shinigami nurse. The nurse was more used to dealing with student shinigami who had had an accident with their death scythes, but she did her best. She helped Will carry Grell back to his room, where she told him that "sleep was the best medicine".

"What, so that's it? What about all the work he's skipping? He'll have to work overtime!" Will placed his death scythe down in the corner of Grell's crowded room. It was filled with dolls, pillows and of course, it was painted in crazy shades of red. Now that his glasses were adjusted, he could recognize a few few of the dolls as people he had met in the past. There was the demon – Sebastian, was it? - the Undertaker, and Ronald. He spotted his doll in the corner of the room, a tiny pair of glasses balanced on the dolls nose, and a pair of hedge clippers much like his own clutched in the dolls hands. He couldn't help wondering if Grell had made these dolls himself.

"What work? When does Grell Sutcliff ever do much work anyway?" The nurse said. William sighed. It was a good point. Grell _did_ have a habit of not turning up to work.

"Anyway, you'll have to look after him. I don't think he needs medication, but if your there to look after him I'm sure he'll be fine." She smiled in a way that made William think that she had heard the rumors about his relationship with Grell. _What relationship? _William thought, _We are colleagues. That's it. _

Will turned bright red himself. "Wait, I'm sure that's not appropriate. I have work to do, and besides, you're the nurse..." he trailed off. The nurse was gone.

He stared at the sleeping figure of Grell Sutcliff. There was no real bed in the room, just a area amongst the dolls which had a blanket placed on it. William sighed again, then adjusted his glasses (again), then sat down on a spot that wasn't filled with dolls. He hoped Grell would wake up soon.

**(Sorry, I'm pretty new to Fanfic, I accidentally uploaded this a separate story to chapter one, but I've fixed that now. If your reading this and are confused . . . sorry about that, read part one first.)**


	3. Undertaker visits

Grell slept for a long time. There were no windows in Grell's room, so time seemed to slow. The only light in the room came from the candles hanging from the walls, which dripped red wax every now and then. The room was stuffy and it smelt like the multiple perfumes that Grell was always spraying on.

On the first day, Grell was getting constant visits from giggling junior shinigami who were hoping to spot some action between the older death gods, but after awhile they would drift off, muttering pathetic things like, "_Get well soon_". On the second day, the shinigami from HR visited. They wanted to know how long Grell would be sick for. William shrugged his shoulders in reply, and they left.

For a moment Will considered what life would be like without Grell Sutcliff. Quiet, for starters. _But,_ he thought, _what would I do on Wednesday if Grell wasn't there for me to kick?_He thought over this for a while, genuine worry rising in his throat, then decided if Grell _were _to die, he would simply kick Ronald Knox on Wednesday instead. Simple.

But deep down, William knew it wasn't just his routine that would suffer if Grell didn't wake up. Life as a shinigami was boring, after the first few hundred dramatic deaths, the souls start to look similar and boring. Well, except for souls like Ciel Phantomhive. But those types of souls were normally claimed by those demon scum before William could get to them with his hedge clippers. Grell was like a flash of color in his cut and paste routine. When Grell was around, William could never estimate the next words he would say. (Which, when you and - the people you surround yourself with - are immortal, you can start doing by accident. William knew from experience.) Grell, with his crazy schemes, outfits and moods just made life more . . . interesting.

On the third day, Undertaker visited. He gave a weird little giggle when he saw it William who was looking after Grell, then presented him with a coffin.

"Uh . . . What is that doing here?" William pointed to the coffin Undertaker was carrying.

Undertaker gave him a strange look.

"You know, in case you want to give him a, ah, how do I phrase this, premature burial?"

"What?! No!" Undertaker gave another giggle. He loved winding people like William up. Control freaks needed to learn to take a joke.

"Well, you always look like you're trying to get rid of that idiot. Anyway, must be going now. No matter what happens to Grell Sutcliff here, there are always more bodies to . . . clean up . . ." He left. Grell slept. William worried.


	4. William's blush

On the fourth day, Grell woke up. He seemed surprised to be in his room, but when he saw William, he was full of smiles.

"William! You saved me!" He cried in voice that really pissed William off. He flew into the arms of a rather surprised William, and then they kissed.

It was a little more awkward then it sounded. Grell made sound effects, twisted his face from side to side, and ran his hands through William's hair. His tongue twisted its way into William's mouth. And . . . nothing.

William stood completely still. He didn't raise a hand to swipe leech-Grell off him, nor did he pull away or join in. He did not adjust his glasses, which were getting tangled up in Grell's hair. After a minute more of awkward kissing Grell let go of William.

William sank to the floor.

William looked up at Grell.

Grell looked down at William.

William looked up at Grell.

Grell looked down at William.

Nothing.

Then a wave of color rolled into Williams cheeks like a tidal wave. Many would have been interested to see his temperature at that moment – it shot up like a rocket. William sneezed, once, twice.

Grell put his hands on his hips and gave Will the evil eye, which the new, longer-than-long eyelash extensions perfected.

"Will? What are you doing?" But there was something different about William T. Spears. Something that Grell couldn't quite put his finger on. . .


End file.
